


One Last Party

by summerprincess (notjustalittlegirl)



Category: Mister Death's Blue-Eyed Girls - Mary Downing Hahn
Genre: Canon Era, Catholic Character, Catholic Guilt, F/F, Internalized Homophobia, POV First Person, Period-Typical Homophobia, Possibly Unrequited Love, Post-Canon, Religious Guilt, Roman Catholicism, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 10:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15580464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustalittlegirl/pseuds/summerprincess
Summary: "When I got here and she wasn't here already, I thought I wasn't going to see her. I was equal parts relieved and disappointed, and now that she's here I can feel my heart start to beat faster and faster.She sees me, I know she does. I can tell by the way her eyes widen. She wasn't expecting to see me here. Is she pleased? I can't tell."





	One Last Party

**Author's Note:**

> Just something.
> 
> I don't own the book or the characters, I am making no money off of this, please do not sue.

The day after graduation. One last party. One chance to say goodbye to everyone, all at once, before we all go our separate ways forever.

I'm not sad about the prospect of leaving this town- actually, I think if I have to stay in this town one more minute I might lose my mind- but, looking around at the people who have gathered in the park, I must say that it will be... bittersweet. 

I guess I feel grateful to even be invited to this party, what with having spent senior year at a different school. But Susan is throwing it, and I guess she's fond enough of me to invite me. 

Former graduates are here too, whether invited or not, and one of them is Paul.

He makes a beeline for me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. I haven't seen him in almost a year, and he must have a new girlfriend by now, but I guess he isn't thinking of her.

We exchange idle chitchat, but it's impossible to pick up where we left off. A year can do a lot. But Paul seems to be pretending that we never said goodbye. 

I remember how he made me feel last summer. Almost... safe. So, I pretend that I still feel what he still feels, accept the beer he hands me, and lean against his side as we listen to Elvis sing. 

As I snuggle against Paul, absorbing his warmth and sipping the bitter alcohol, I see her.

Nora.

When I got here and she wasn't here already, I thought I wasn't going to see her. I was equal parts relieved and disappointed, and now that she's here I can feel my heart start to beat faster and faster. 

She sees  _me,_ I know she does. I can tell by the way her eyes widen. She wasn't expecting to see me here. Is she pleased? I can't tell.

Our eyes lock, and now there's no pretending that each of us doesn't know the other one is here. Nora waves at Susan and Julie, each dancing with a boy who I don't remember, and then begins making her way towards me and Paul. 

"Ellie."

I didn't remember the sound of her voice before now, but when she says my name it's like I always remembered. How could I ever have forgotten?

"Hey, Nora."

I don't know what else to say, but thankfully Paul spares me that awkwardness by greeting my former best friend enthusiastically. She returns his hug, but her eyes remain locked on mine. They ask a question, the  _only_ question. 

I nod and, when Paul releases Nora, I tell him that I'll catch up with him later and I follow her towards the edge of the woods.

We don't go too far, of course. We don't go all the way down to the creek where we splashed around with Bobbi Jo last year. We just sit at the edge of the woods, on a fallen log. 

The spirit of Cheryl Miller haunts the party, especially in us. Besides, there's not one of those people who I don't know anymore who I need to say goodbye to more than Nora Cunningham. 

"So... How was your senior year?"

The awkwardness that Paul spared us returns full force with my stupid, stupid question, but we have to start somewhere, don't we?

She shrugs. I thought as much.

We talk idly about nothings for a few minutes before I finally look up and meet her eyes.

Has Nora always been this beautiful?

I've only had one beer, but when our eyes meet my head starts to swim around, and my heart beats  _fasterfasterfaster._ I don't know what's happening, and I have to grab the log to steady myself.

"Ellie?"

Nora's voice is concerned, and she places a tentative hand on my back. Her hands are soft, maybe they've gotten softer since we last touched or maybe I was just never paying attention before.

I am certainly paying attention now. 

I am paying attention to the flecks of green in her eyes, and the way her hair curls when it gets humid like tonight, and the exact feel of one soft palm rubbing up and down my back as my mind begins to go places I never dreamed it could.

Where it  _can't_ be going. Not now, especially not now that I'm about to say goodbye to her, maybe forever. 

She must just think I've had a little too much to drink, and that she might have to drag me home one last time. But I think that I might be thinking about Nora the way I'm supposed to think about Paul. 

Even though Mama and Daddy don't particularly like Paul, it would still be better if I could be falling back in love with him than falling in love with Nora.

What do I do?

Ever since I was a little girl, ever since I was old enough to understand the concept of God and Jesus and all that, I've held tight to everything that the Church has told me. Because there is nothing else. Everything they tell me is true, and so I know that I am sinning by even thinking about Nora this way. 

I... I don't... What can I do to fix this?

Maybe this is Nora's fault. When she wrote to me and told me that she couldn't be a Catholic anymore, maybe something happened. But how could she have done this to me? She wouldn't have. So it must be my fault.

Maybe if I pray extra hard on Sunday, and maybe if I tell Father and he gives me enough penance, then I will be forgiven for this moment of madness.

But, as the moment of madness continues and I lean my head onto my former best friend's shoulder in the darkness, I'm not sure I want to be forgiven. 

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone always raves about MDH's ghost stories, and I completely agree that they're amazing. But this book really spoke to me. I won't bore you with my story, but I fell in love with it, and any fan of MDH's should absolutely go read it.


End file.
